Of Beast and Beauty

Prologue

Everyone dreams of marrying a prince—except for me. I am nothing more than a pawn for my mother’s revenge on the seven kingdoms. For she was betrayed by those close to her, scorned by her true love and cast aside like garbage. In return, she raised her adoptive daughters to be as beautiful as diamonds, cold as ice, formidable like the ocean, and as wicked as they come.

Each kingdom needed to be taught a lesson, and I was the chosen tool, her sharpened blade that would cut the deepest into the heart of this particular kingdom—the kingdom of Baist. I would rip their future from them by marrying their prince and future king. But like all deadly weapons, my wedding was a two-edged sword, and cutting them would cut me deeply.

For I am Rosalie, one of the adopted daughters of Lady Eville, and it is my duty—no, my joy to exact revenge on the realms, even if it means entering into a loveless and hate-filled marriage with the narcissistic crown prince of Baist.

Chapter One

Prince Xander’s fingers tightened around my hand painfully, his knuckles turning white, until I realized my own fingernails were digging little moon-shaped divots in his palm and had been for a while. I relaxed my hand; he mirrored my actions, and the pain ceased.

We were pawns in a much larger game, stuck in an unwanted arrangement on both our parts, never having seen the other before meeting at the altar a few moments ago. Once I took his hand, my eyes were glued to the shimmering marble floor and my silk slippers that peeked out from under my too-short dress.

I honestly couldn’t tell you what the crown prince looked like. I heard stories he was unpleasant and cold as the blizzards in the northern region, that he was cruel and short-tempered and tolerated very little in the way of women. Handsome, maybe, but I wouldn’t know because I refused to look his way or meet his gaze through my thick, imported, white lace wedding veil.

Under my ceremonial dress, the silk slippers had no soles and therefore wouldn’t carry me far if I decided to abandon my vow and run off in the middle of the ceremony.

A clearing of a throat drew my gaze to my adopted mother, Lady Eville, who sat painfully erect in the second row, her dress of ornate silk as black as a South Adder’s skin. She made a gesture with her finger, and I couldn’t help but follow with my eyes to the beautiful young maiden sitting in the row across from her.

Young Yasmin Nueva from the Busan province had been previously engaged to the prince up until a few hours ago. Today was supposed to be their day. Instead, I was standing in her place, probably wearing a wedding dress custom-made for her, and her shoes. No wonder they pinched. I couldn’t help but compare myself to his fiancée. She was petite where I was tall. Her golden hair fell over her shoulder, bedecked with sapphires and jewels that complemented her light blue eyes while my hair was black as a raven’s wings. Her elegant ears sparkled as diamonds hung from her dainty lobes; mine were unadorned and had never been pierced. Light streamed in from the stained-glass window, catching her jewels as she sparkled and tried to outdo the bride standing before her. I had owned nothing as expensive as what Yasmin wore on a single finger. All of my jewelry was fake, or glamoured to appear real.

My hand gripped the prince’s furiously, my anger needing an outlet at the injustice of my predicament, but I was able to calm my wrath as I imagined the prince’s face full of scorn. My lips curled up in a smile as I glanced to King Gerald’s puffy red face and then Queen Anya’s, her face pale and drawn. Joy flew through me as I witnessed their discomfort at receiving a dose of their own medicine. Vengeance for my mother.

My arm dropped suddenly as the prince released his hold, but our wrists were tied together with elegant strips of lace and ribbon. It was customary for the newlyweds to be bound together the first full day and night—a symbol of their unity and love.

The priest didn’t ask us if we would honor or cherish each other; that was removed from the vows. In fact, there was a fair amount missing from the ceremony. It was painfully short, so as not to drag on the procession any longer than it needed to be.

I now present to you Crown Prince Alexander the third of Baist and his wife, the court crier announced, leaving out my formal name as the crowd clapped slowly, hesitantly. Confused faces and looks covered most of them. The closest court ladies began to weep, and I swore Queen Anya fainted.

Only Lady Eville, my adopted mother, stood to congratulate us. I should have smiled. After all, we had won, and she had gotten her revenge. But the enthusiasm wouldn’t come nor reach my lips. I was married to a prince—though maybe not the most cordial of suitors—but this was still my wedding day and a celebration. It was the only one I would have, and I wanted to enjoy the delicacies, the pastries, and the royal food the servants had spent all week cooking. There would be music, light shows displayed upon the marble walls, and dancing. I had never attended a formal dance, and my feet were eagerly moving toward the back of the hall. I was sure the prince would be a phenomenal dancer.

Prince Xander pulled me hastily down the altar steps, and I stumbled over my feet as I tried to keep up. I paused to greet the guests, but he veered left, dragging me out a side door into a darkened hallway. My thick veil made seeing difficult. The ribbon bit into my wrist as he swung me toward the wall and pressed my back to it. When he leaned close to whisper into my ear as if a lover would, my heart picked up and my breath caught in my throat as I waited expectantly.

These vows do not bind you to me in any way, he growled harshly as he pulled our bound wrists between us. Do not expect me to be faithful to you, or to care for you, you hideous creature of the night.

I sucked in my breath in outrage. How dare you address me so? I am—

No one, he interrupted. You are nothing to me, or the crown, and I wish to never lay eyes upon your face. You and your cursed mother. You did this to me. His voice was filled with disdain.

He pulled a bejeweled dagger from his belt and lifted it up to my cheek, running it down the lace. Through the thick veil, I could only make out that he towered over me, the halls still too dark to see any distinguishing features.

The dagger moved between us, and I felt a pressure on my wrist as he sliced through our wedding bindings. I gasped as the blade nicked me and the brightly colored ribbons spiraled to the ground, drops of my dark red blood littering the white tiled floor.

Leave my sight and never cross paths with me again, the prince warned.

What about the wedding celebration? I asked angrily. He couldn’t possibly mean for me to not attend.

He dashed my hopes with a scoff. There will be no celebrating. Go to your rooms and stay there.

Prince Xander stormed down the hall, leaving me furious and alone on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Instead, I felt my mother’s words come back to me. Love is weak, but your anger makes you strong. Wrap yourself in your anger, and it will shield you from all who wish you harm.

My fingernails bit into my palms, and I flashed my bloodied wrist into the air.

Fiergo.

My power lit every sconce on the wall and in the palace. I twirled my finger in the air again, and the discarded ribbons along the floor flew up and wrapped around my wrist, creating a bandage.

It wasn’t lost on me, the irony of my wedding bindings becoming my bandage, or how I knew this marriage would bring me and the royal family nothing but pain. I could accept that. Pain was a close friend. We got along just fine.

Straightening my shoulders, I looked across to the mirror on the far wall, my curiosity piqued as I wanted to see myself on my wedding day. Lifting my veil, I saw my black hair, flowing loose down my back; eyes so light they looked silver but when angered turned dark. My unsmiling lips were soft and full. They puckered as I recalled the prince’s words. I hope to never look upon your face.

Pity, for I was beautiful.

A cough came from behind a stone column in the hallway.

Who’s there? Show yourself, I ordered.

Now that my magic had lit the hallways, I saw the rustle of a pink skirt move as a young child peeked around the column. Wide, fear-filled blue eyes looked back at me and didn’t move. I waited for the child to decide if she would run or stay.

They say you are a witch. Her voice was filled with distrust as she stepped out from behind the column but didn’t come closer. I think you’re a monster. The tow-headed child stuck her tongue out and turned to run down the hall. Her retreating footsteps mirrored those of hundreds of other children from my village—although the ones from my village usually tossed rotten vegetables and dirt clods at me before scurrying off. There, I was a lowly orphan of Eville’s tower who was used to being desecrated by rotting refuse. But today, minutes after marrying one of the princes of the seven kingdoms and becoming a princess, I would again be pelted with rotting hate-filled words.

Pressing my lips together, I ignored the child, like I had ignored the others before her. I didn’t blame them for their hatred; they didn’t know better. I blamed the adults. Their minds were turned against the daughters of Eville since birth by their ill-informed parents. It was our mantle; their discord fueled us, taught us to ignore empathy and compassion and focus on our dark arts.

Holding my head high, I ignored the sounds of revelry and music coming from the ballroom, squelched the feelings of injustice and desire to dance, and headed toward my designated rooms. A servant had shown them to me a few hours earlier. I couldn’t recall the servant’s name, but I was impressed by the wide open room with the pale floral rugs and table by a fireplace. Two overstuffed sitting chairs surrounded a bookcase filled with books beside a window that overlooked the garden and woods beyond. I had my own private bathroom with marble bath and vanity. A king-sized four-poster bed covered with white down bedding sat next to a hidden door in the wall, disguised except for the silver handle.

I tried to open the door, but it was locked from the other side. Where does this room lead to?

That is His Highness—uh, I mean your husband’s rooms, the servant said.

Oh? I replied, unable to keep the blush from my cheeks.

Now that I was once again in my bedroom, I gazed at the locked door, knowing the prince was probably storming around on the other side. He made it clear that he would never grow to love me, his mind poisoned against my family, so he would never step foot into my rooms. I swallowed and bit back the taste of bitterness that crept into my mouth as I looked at my fancy prison.

Here, in these rooms, I would grow old and die unloved.

Chapter Two

He’s trying to starve me to death . My stomach growled noisily, and no matter the amount of tossing and turning I engaged in, I couldn’t make it stop. Once I stepped off the carriage with my mother, and after our meeting with the king, I was rushed into the side rooms and poked, pricked, and measured by the tailor as they quickly altered a white lace dress to fit me. Then I was banished from my own wedding feast, and no one even thought to bring me a plate of food. It didn’t take much to understand that this was probably based on the prince’s orders.

Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I pressed against it, trying to concentrate on getting through the night and making it till morning. A loud grumble of protest from my body was the answer.

I can’t take it! I snapped aloud and threw off the bedding. There was no way I could get back into my wedding dress by myself with how many buttons there were on the back—even though most of them had been ripped off, as I was left to undress myself. So that left me pulling out the same traveling dress I had worn here. Slipping the deep blue dress over my chemise, I dressed hurriedly. I wasn’t planning on being out of my room long, only as much time as it took to get a plate of food and then return to my prison.

Opening the door, I peeked into the hallway. There wasn’t anyone stationed outside guarding me; they were more than likely enjoying my own wedding feast. Tiptoeing down the hall, I listened at each turn and followed the sounds of music until I came to the foyer, then passed through to the ballroom.

Staying in the shadows, I observed how splendidly it was decorated. Great marble pillars lined the hall, flowers and vines adorning them. A head table had an array of succulent food and roses. The chandeliers sparkled, casting a warm glow around the room filled with people dancing, eating, and joyously celebrating. My mother was predictably absent. She would have left as soon as they married us to go back and attend to my sisters. The king’s and queen’s thrones on the opposite side of the room sat empty, visibly showing their lack of approval for our nuptials. Though it didn’t matter that the bride wasn’t his intended—the nobles stayed to revel in the merrymaking and the coming week-long celebrations regardless.

Entranced by the music, I hung back in the shadows and watched jealously as bedecked ladies were spun around on the floor in a twirl of lace, their jewels catching the candlelight. The music was heavenly, played by the fingers of supreme artists. Closing my eyes, I momentarily forgot the pang of hunger as I listened to the dulcimer and viola. I rested my hand upon my chest, feeling my heart beating in contentment, and I opened my eyes and smiled. Maybe I could find happiness here.

Skirting the room, I made my way over to a side table filled with food and glanced up at the head table, hoping to catch a look at Prince Xander in the flesh and not through a haze of thick veils. I wanted to get a glimpse of my husband. Two empty chairs with equally bare gilded plates dressed the table. It looked like he never even came to his own party either. I wondered where he had gone off to. Sighing, I cast a hungry look at the glazed duck, roasted vegetables, and various sides that were awaiting the bride and groom, but I dared not approach the head table.

Get food and get out, I told myself, then carefully maneuvered around the flowing ball gowns. Snatching a filled pastry from a moving tray, I retreated to a dark alcove and watched my wedding celebration from afar.

Taking another step back into the shadows, I snuck a bite of my pastry and sighed in pleasure at the filling of sausage, potatoes, and herbs. When I finished my treat and licked my fingers clean, I debated going back for another. It wasn’t until I made to step forward that I realized I wasn’t alone in the shadows.

A gentleman leaning against the wall, nursing a glass of wine, addressed me. Have you come to spy on the witch? He raised his glass to point toward the empty head table.

I glanced up into the heated eyes of one of the most striking men I had ever seen. His dark copper hair was slicked back, eyes a golden amber that flashed by the light of the chandelier, his chin angular and strong, his jacket cut bringing attention to his broad shoulders and slim waist. My heart raced as I took him in.

No, I muttered, embarrassed that he had caught me slinking in the shadows, gawking at the head table. In fact, I’m—

Lying, he cut in. His eyes narrowed as he looked critically at me, then let his gaze slowly roam over me, not missing a single detail. No woman as striking as you would hide amongst the shadows.

Maybe this woman prefers darkness, I whispered, but my voice sounded husky.

So you’ve not come in the hopes of finding a wealthy husband? His brows drew back in surprise.

No. I couldn’t keep the rare smile from my lips. If only this handsome stranger knew that finding a husband was no longer any of my concern.

He drew closer, raising his arm above my head to rest on the wall behind me. He leaned in, the smell of wine on his breath strong as he whispered, Then you are here for a clandestine meeting with a lover, perhaps? If not, I’m sure I could help you find one.

I’m only here for the food, I muttered, then stared up into the animated eyes, a renewed heat rising to my face. A deep rumble came from his chest that I at first thought was a growl until I realized he was laughing—at me. Not one to enjoy being laughed at, I tried to duck under his arm and move away.

Wait, don’t leave, he said, grabbing my elbow and stopping me from escaping. I find your candor refreshing.

It was odd that, for once, I had a gentleman who was interested in being near me instead of walking to the other side of the road.

I turned and, out of the corner of my eye, caught a servant carrying a tray past our hiding place. Feeling the need to prove my reason for being here was based on hunger and not anything else, I leaned out and snatched two desserts from the inattentive servant, then slipped back into the shadows.

Like I said, I’m only here for the food. Handing one to my secret confidant, I took a bite and smiled winningly. This treat was a cinnamon and honey scone covered in a sugar glaze. It’s quite excellent.

The gentleman was reluctant to take a bite of the pastry and instead was looking at me like I had grown horns. Did I do something wrong? Was that not ladylike? My heart raced as I realized how childish I must have looked. Instead, he signaled to a servant, who immediately appeared with a tray of drinks; he put his empty glass back on and took two, giving one to me. He held up his glass in a salute, and I met his with mine.

We ate our desserts in silence while sipping on our drinks. It was richer than any available from my hometown and had a pleasant aroma. Anything this fine rarely came our way. A warmth and a slight haze filling my body, I didn’t feel at all uncomfortable as I sucked the sugary pastry glaze from my thumb, until I saw him watching my lips and fingers avidly. Quickly, I dropped my hand and held it behind my back, knowing he could construe my behavior as wantonness, and that was not how I wanted to behave. I had once again let my childish exuberance take over, and I wanted to hide in a corner.

Wait, I already am, with a very handsome man. I needed to take refuge in a different corner. Looking about, I tried to find a reason to escape and glanced back at the head table.

The man saw where I was looking and grinned. Did you know? he whispered like it was a great secret. The prince married a witch. He gripped a goblet in one hand. I don’t know how he’ll survive being married to her. His cheeks were flushed, and the wine kept sloshing out of the cup and over my dress. She’s only after his crown and will surely kill him.

Is that so? I answered bitterly. Any infatuation I had gained for him died and blew away in the wind.

His stylish dark copper hair fell into his eyes as he leaned forward to whisper, He’s cursed for all eternity.

"Why are you hiding among the shadows?" I asked.

Because I’m avoiding responsibility for the moment and enjoying my conversation with you. The stranger took both of our glasses and put them on the floor near the wall. He leaned in close, his hand resting on my shoulder. Who are you?

No one of importance. In fact, it would be best if you forgot you ever met me, I said.

Again my words made him pause. There’s something about you. His eyes dropped to my lips, and my breath caught. His fingers lifted my chin, and I became ensnared in the web of his amber eyes.

I— I was at a loss for words.

Do you know what else shadows are good for? I could smell the wine on his breath; he was heavily inebriated.

What? I asked, entranced by his nearness and scent—cedar and leather.

Keeping secrets, he murmured, then pressed his lips to my throat. I gasped in surprise as the tingle of his kisses ran along my neck and up to my jaw, sending a shock of warmth racing through me. My toes curled and my breath caught in my throat. His lips sought mine, and I didn't pull away, my own curiosity dying to experience a kiss. It was everything I had ever dreamed and then more. My knees went weak, and he had to hold me as I almost collapsed.

You taste amazing, his husky voice drawled as he sought my lips a second time.

Stop, I breathed out, turning my head and avoiding his kiss. But I clutched his arms to keep myself from falling over. His kisses left me dizzy, and I needed his support to stand, but he was also tipsy and struggling to keep his own balance.

No, please. Don’t deny my last bit of freedom, for I expect to die tonight, murdered by my new wife. He leaned in for another stolen kiss.

What? I gasped, pulling away. The fog in my mind quickly cleared as his words hit home. He's married! Wait, I’m married. This couldn’t go on.

Scared at the feelings he was dredging up and overwhelmed by new sensations he was stirring in me, I roughly pushed him away. His back hit the wall, followed by the crack of his head. I winced at the sound.

He stilled when he caught sight of a woman coming down the hall, dropping his hand from my waist and clearing his throat. Not wanting to be caught in the middle, I stepped back behind him as he approached the noble lady.

Yasmin, he breathed out and straightened his clothing.

Xander, she replied curtly, and my head snapped up when I heard the prince’s name. The drunken lord I had been bantering and sharing a heated kiss with was none other than my husband. How ironic.

Yasmin stopped in front of Xander, her eyes never leaving his face, not even acknowledging my presence. Is this it, then? she asked. The end of us?

No, he breathed out. Despite my circumstances, we can be together.

Her beautiful blue eyes teared up, and she blinked prettily. Words, my prince. Your words mean nothing to me when you have gone and married another, and I will not be your whore. You have made me look like a fool in front of my family and friends, and I am no fool, she hissed. You are the fool who has pledged himself to a daughter of Eville. Do you not understand what you’ve done? Do you not know the ruin you’ve brought to our kingdom?

My kingdom, Xander said stiffly.

Yasmin’s eyes widened at being contradicted. W-What?

It is my kingdom, not yours.

I meant no offense. It was a mere slip of the tongue. For goodness’ sake, we were engaged to be married. We had dreams for the kingdom of Baist. It isn’t a dream I can so easily give up because you tell me to. I can’t give up on you. I won’t. Please, tell me you haven’t given up on me… on us.

This wasn’t a conversation meant for me. I stepped farther back into the shadows and watched as a spectator at what I had stolen.

Yasmin, I— He faltered.

How will you save your kingdom now? she whispered, tears forming in her eyes as she turned and left down the hallway.

Her rejection seemed to undo him, and he leaned his head against the wall and rubbed his temples. Then he noticed I was still standing in the dark with him.

Frustrated, I turned, but Xander was quick, his arm pulling me back toward him. Now do you understand my predicament? I will probably be murdered in my sleep tonight.

Yes, you probably will, I